The Quiet Mother

45

A few printouts of material from the internet were scattered on top of the piano. Having opened the lid, Eygló tapped the key that had been stuck but was now free again. The note it made had a remarkably clean tone, considering the condition of the piano and how little it was used.

She was thinking about her friend Málfríður and the last time she saw her at the hospital. Eygló had tried to remember every detail of the visit from the moment she arrived in her room, their conversation and when they finally said goodbye. She could recall it quite well, she felt, but what she remembered most clearly was the woman who sat on the chair at Málfríður’s bedside, who was called Hulda and was an old friend of hers, and believed more than most in life after death.

She tapped the key absent-mindedly with her index finger. When she was in her thirties, she’d wanted to learn to play the piano, so she could play the one that stood motionless in her living room. The piano teacher was a particularly congenial and patient woman who lived in a house on the Eastside of town, where Eygló went for her few lessons. The teacher went over some of the basics with her and one of the things Eygló learned was that the white notes were named after letters that repeated themselves across the keyboard. A was the note at the far left, and then came B C D E F G, followed by A again and so on. The key on her piano that had been stuck but came loose played a D.

She heard a knock on the door and was glad that Konrád had arranged to stop by, and she went and opened the door for him. It was somewhat late in the evening and she greeted him kindly, mindful of their last meeting when she rushed out of his car in a fit of anger. He stood hesitantly on the threshold, doubtless for the same reason, as if he weren’t sure of the reception he’d be given. His worries were unnecessary. Eygló invited him in and asked if he would like some Parmesan crisps that she’d baked earlier that day. They were particularly good with white wine, she added, taking a bottle of wine from New Zealand out of the fridge and pouring him a glass. Being hungry, Konrád thanked her and helped himself to the crisps, and had to try hard not to stuff himself with them. They were tasty and did go well with the wine. Eygló poured herself a glass too, and they sat down in the kitchen, where Konrád told her all about the conversations he’d had about Valborg. Eygló said she knew nothing about any sects or religious associations. She’d never heard of the Creation except as a phenomenon in religious studies.

Gradually, she turned their conversation to the subject of their disagreement when he drove her home. She said she understood his position. That it seemed obvious to him that their fathers had treated Stella horribly with their lies and deceit, whereas she held on to the slightest hope that her father Engilbert had sensed something that had given the woman some relief. She showed Konrád into the living room, where the piano stood, and began telling him about the key that she’d happened to notice was stuck and wouldn’t come free no matter what she tried. She had then closed the lid and gone to bed, then dreamed Engilbert looking like a zombie, standing at the piano and striking that key over and over again with his finger. Then, when she’d gone to the living room the next morning, the piano lid was open and the key had come unstuck.

‘I know you don’t find this remarkable and will have a rational explanation for it, but it certainly surprised me. I was shocked, in fact. The vision or dream was frightening. He stood here like a washed-up corpse banging on the piano, and had an aura of anger and hatred.’

‘Isn’t it because you’ve been thinking a lot about him lately?’ Konrád said. ‘Isn’t that why you’re sensing his presence?’

‘I think it’s all linked to Stella. I feel quite bad about all that.’

‘Didn’t you just go into the living room that night and do it yourself? While sleepwalking or whatever it’s called? Open the lid and free that key?’

Eygló smiled.

‘I’m not necessarily looking for a logical explanation,’ she said.

‘No, they’re not needed in your world, of course,’ Konrád said. ‘It’s the rest of us that have to deal with such trivialities.’

‘I’m not your enemy, Konrád,’ Eygló said. ‘I also want to find out why your father died. And why my father died a few months later. What the nature of their partnership was at that time. Whether it played some part in what happened to them. I’m looking for answers just as much as you are.’

‘I didn’t mean to irk you.’

‘I’m thinking about Stella, and maybe more about her son.’

‘The one who supposedly spoke to his mother through the piano?’

Eygló nodded.

‘Pianos play a considerable part in this story,’ Konrád said.

‘So it appears,’ Eygló said. ‘I went to the cemetery and found the boy’s name, and the key that was stuck on this piano—’

‘Eygló, it’s clear that they lied to and betrayed an innocent woman who had suffered great loss. Your father was just as involved in it as mine. He was no better. I know how they—’

‘You have your opinions on it and I respect that,’ said Eygló. ‘You need to let me have my opinions, and show them just as much respect.’

‘I know how they did it.’

‘I already know your views,’ continued Eygló. ‘But I believe the powers that some of us perceive may be at work in our lives and can even influence them. Sounds. Smells. Sights. However that may be. Whether they’re figments of the imagination and it’s a complete coincidence that they fit the circumstances each time, or whether they’re messages from elsewhere. The stuck key in this piano plays a D. Stella’s son was named Davíð. Doesn’t that tell us something? Isn’t it the same note that the boy used at Stella’s to get in touch...?’

From his pocket, Konrád took the object that had belonged to his father, with the wire and spring.

‘Dad kept this piece of junk and was quite fond of it for some reason,’ he said. ‘I just said that I thought pianos play a prominent part in these ghost stories. Stella’s piano. This one here at your place. I think I know now what happened at Stella’s when they said they could communicate with her son through the instrument.’

‘What’s that you’ve got there?’

‘Some gadget I found among my dad’s belongings when he died,’ Konrád said. ‘I’ve kept it ever since, along with one or two other little things of his. I don’t know why. Probably because it’s a kind of tie to my youth, just like everyone has. To my father. Even if he was rotten. I don’t know. My father wasn’t the kind of man you remember with much warmth.’

He handed Eygló the object and she rolled it between her fingers without understanding what it was or the role it played.

‘Dad once told me that he never made as much money with anything as he did with this cheap piece of crap. I think he made it out of bits from a broken music box. It would be just like him, to take such a thing to a séance.’

‘I don’t understand what you’re getting at,’ said Eygló. ‘What are you saying?’

‘You think Engilbert was in contact with the boy?’ said Konrád.

Eygló didn’t answer him.

‘That they communicated through the piano?’

‘I said I didn’t want to rule anything out. Did you come here to belittle me?’

Konrád shook his head.

‘I would never do that. Maybe I brought it to show you that Engilbert was no better than my father.’

Eygló, taken aback, stared at him in bewilderment.

‘He was just as much of a swindler and scumbag,’ Konrád said. ‘They were the same. Both were equally guilty of taking advantage of poor Stella’s grief. The Great Beyond had nothing to do with it! Nothing. This thing here, this piece of junk you’re holding — it’s the entire Great Beyond! You should keep that in mind next time you talk about—’

‘What are you on about? Why do you say—’

‘They played Stella like an old music box!’ Konrád exclaimed. ‘Literally!’

Feeling that he’d gone too far, Konrád stopped. He hadn’t meant to hurt Eygló. People were entitled to their own opinions without him sticking his nose in. They could believe what they wanted — it wasn’t his business.

‘Forgive me,’ he said. ‘I didn’t mean to come across like that. I just don’t like hearing you say... Your dad was no angel.’

‘What is this?’ Eygló asked. ‘What do you do with it?’

‘You put tension on the spring and release it,’ Konrád said, showing her how the gadget worked.

‘How... like this...?’

Eygló hesitated for a moment. Then she did as he said and when she released the spring, they heard a faint, lonely sound, like a note from a piano.